Here’s the man I lost my virginity to. Or
at least some of him. And I’ll admit that it
didn’t happen all that long ago. Although
my v-card could have been swiped in high
school, I chose to wait because what the
hell did my 16-year-old self know about sex?
Plenty, but not enough to actually have it.
My perception of sex, perhaps too romantic and old fashioned, was that it was an
intimate moment shared with someone you
loved (or thought you loved). I failed to mention that I was a virgin to this man. Instead,
I let myself go and trusted my body, and
his. “This is it,” I thought And just like that,
after some huffing and puffing, it was over.

I was unsatisfied to discover that upon losing my virginity, nothing about me changed
and I didn’t feel a connection I so longed for
with this man. So why did I make such a
big deal about it?
For a long time, I was fed up with friends
who teased me for being a virgin but others commended me for waiting so long.
There was a growing gap between my
childhood and adulthood and I used sex
as a measurement. The longer I remained
a virgin, the longer I took to blossom
into adulthood. Because adulthood in my
mind meant birth control and having my
gynecologist on speed dial.

Beware Of the
Dark Circles
by Daniela Rios

Wait! Before you start making alien mind
control protection caps out of aluminum foil (don’t pretend we all haven’t
been scared by that alien movie “Signs”),
let it be known that there are no aliens
(besides maybe in our hallucinations) in
this article. I’m not talking science fiction
here, folks, I’m talking about our very
own whacked-out sleeping schedules, the
kind of schedules which are only called a
“schedule” for lack of a better word -- now
say it aloud: “schedule.” HA! Who are we
fooling, right?
It is a universal fact that college students
don’t get enough sleep. We might have
just found the reason why people wear
sunglasses indoors and in the cloudiest of
days, and I may or may not be sorry that
this has ruined the mysterious vibe these
club-master creatures give off. We know
what you’re hiding under there: designer
bags. I can almost hear the distant rustling of millions of dollars that makeup
companies are rolling in, selling fancyshmancy eye creams to feed our constant
efforts in covering the dark circles under
our eyes (and this is not exclusive to girls.)
Hiding these babies is no easy task, it can
take layers upon layers before we reach a
color that matches our normal skin tone.
But if you’re like me, I just let them do
their “thang.” I wear them like a glittering medal earned for all the nights I
stayed up perfecting a project, learning a
new trade, practicing my French, learning how to pronounce onomatopoeia,
or (I admit) catching up on “Mad Men”
(which I consider taking notes, being an
AMC major and all). Even if I get called
a raccoon once in a while for my natural
look or asked about my “bar fight” last
night, I will take the raccoon remark as a
compliment because these mammals are

known for their intelligence and ability to
adapt as well as their dark eyes. Studies
have shown that their incredible memory
allows them to remember the solution to
tasks for up to three years! Humph, and
they thought they were insulting me.
The reason why “BEWARE OF THE
DARK CIRCLES” could be read as a warning sign is because people who usually
stay up all night (for the right reasons) are
extremely hard workers. Just walk into the
Feldman Center basement computer lab
late at night to see who is getting ahead
while their classmates are in the midst of
entering their REM sleep or out partying
on rooftops (if they’re hip).. Sitting down
with friends I’ll hear things like “I shut
my alarm clock off this morning while I
was getting ready to go to school. Why?
Oh yeah, because I didn’t sleep!” People
who are guilty of staying up all night also
tend to be very hard on themselves, striving for nothing but the best (in their eyes,
at least.) These people are extremely dedicated to their work and that’s something
I deeply admire. A very talented person I
once met pulled all-nighters to redo projects from LAST SEMESTER, just for their
own peace of mind, and here I was thinking I was insane in the membrane.
I am in no shape to romanticize dark
circles under our eyes caused by lack of
sleep. If anything, getting a good night’s
sleep is crucial for our success (I’m still
trying to remember this.) I know we are
all trying to live up to our own high standards, but please, for the love of raccoons
everywhere, try and take it easy on yourself. Get out your four inch thick agenda
and plan a date for just you and your bed,
candles and wine optional.

I decided to take a long look in the mirror.
The before picture: purity, innocence and
chastity gushing from my pores. A sexually deprived young woman waiting to be
deflowered. The after picture: triumphal
acceptance into this “club” of humanity
who were “doing it.” I shrugged and said,
“Ok, now give me more.”
I’m not going to sit here and discuss my
sexual escapades or desires. But I will say
that since losing my virginity, something
within me did in fact change and I wasn’t
privy to it at first. It took me a solid month
to realize this veil of expectations and
assumptions had lifted and whatI finally
understood what sex about to me at that
given moment. I wasn’t in love with him,
I wasn’t oozing affection for him, it was
simply just an act of sexual drive. A basic
human need, nothing more. I enjoyed the
experience for what it was and thought
nothing more of it. What I gained from it
the most was confidence. There, another
human being had seen me unclothed,
with all the flaws of my body bare, nothing to hide. And since then, I’ve come to
accept my body for what it is. It took 22
years but I finally did and the feeling, of
being comfortable in my skin, is euphoric.
I’ve also taken more risk with men. Yes, I
handed my number to the bartender that
one drunken night, Star Wars themed,
because after much Instagram stalking,
realized he was a big Star Wars aficionado. “This is not a Jedi mind trick,” it said.
I was even considerate enough to illustrate Darth Vader to add to the charm.
Did he ever text? No. Does he give me free
drinks every weekend and discuss comic
books and Wookiees with me? Yes! In my
mind, I still won.
The man in the photograph and I are not,
and never were, “together” (whatever that
means these days). We remain friends
and share artistic visions but despite
knowing we will never be an entity, I
cherish having shared that moment with
him. In fact, I’m grateful because he’s
helped me come to terms with my sexuality, my womanhood and let’s not be coy
here, unleashed a sexual side of me I was
completely unaware of. Plus, we have an
adorable photobooth together!
Looks like I’ve picked out my Halloween
costume: Princess Leia in her risque slave
clothes. Perky nipples galore!